


In Polite Captivity

by thinktank



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU: nobody dies, Fake Kidnapping, Fili and Kili being goobers, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Humor, M/M, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinktank/pseuds/thinktank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It must have been destiny for Fili and Kili to somehow find and rescue Bilbo from his masked captors, whisking him off to Erebor for 'safety'. Destiny...or subterfuge and an uncle who gets cranky when he's pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> kinkmeme prompt:  
> Everyone lives and Bilbo returns to his hobbit hole, promising to visit. After a month, however, he awakes to find himself tied up in the back of a covered wagon, headed who knows where. He's treated reasonably well, although his captors never remove their masks. After a few days, there's a commotion outside and then Fili and Kili come and untie him, saying that they caught wind of his kidnapping and came to rescue him and that the kidnappers ran off. As they're closer to Erebor than the Shire, Bilbo decides to visit for a while. When they arrive, everyone's glad to see him, but Thorin (for reasons he won't discuss with Bilbo) seems alternatingly please and annoyed with Fili and Kili. Bilbo can't understand it, until he happens upon their travel bags and finds in them masks identical to the ones that his captors wore. Really, a letter would have done.

Bilbo was sorely tempted to ignore the knocking on his door, if only because he’d just sat down to eat and the last time this had happened, he’d been cavorted off into multiple life-and-death situations. However, it was more likely Lobelia trying to get back in his good graces and get herself a bit of gold than it was any dwarf. Bilbo had already promised Thorin and the others that he’d travel back to visit Erebor soon enough, but the journey home had been long and tiring--twice as much when he’d ended up spending a good month and all of his earnings trying to buy back his belongings. 

This would be the third time Lobelia had come by in hopes of ‘keeping him company’ just to try and make it seem like she cared for Bilbo more than his silverware.

Sighing, Bilbo quickly stuffed a bit of roasted potato in his mouth, standing and heading for the door as he chewed quickly. “Lobelia, I’m afraid it’s rather late for visi--” Bilbo paused, because instead of his cousin before him, Bilbo’s porch was completely empty. He poked his head out, frowning and then stepping through the threshold. Before now, none of the children of the Shire had been so bold as to actually come to his door. Usually they kept their distance while calling him things like ‘mad Baggins’, and throwing things into his yard.

“If this is some idea of a joke, I’ll find your mothers and make sure they give the lot of you a thorough wallop!” Bilbo shouted into the emptiness. There was a rustling from the poppy bushes, followed by the sound of hushed whispers. Bilbo whirled, finger out and ready to give the children a proper tongue lashing when two dark figures lunged out from his bushes. He yelped, ducking the first set of arms and then finding himself grabbed by the second.

Shouting loud, Bilbo kicked at the second attacker who was trying to advance with a rather large looking sack. They were shorter than human men; within the range of hobbit height--though Bilbo knew many an orc that were no taller than himself or his dwarves companions--and swathed in dark clothes with masks hiding their faces. Kicking out again, Bilbo caught the approaching figure in the groin, satisfied to see him grunt and drop to his knees with a pained noise. “Release me!” Bilbo cried, wrenching his head back and cracking it against the chin of the one holding him.

“M’h thung!” the one holding him yelped, dropping Bilbo to hold a hand over his mouth and curse. Bilbo dashed into the house, barely making it past the foyer when a pair of arms caught around his legs and brought him crashing to the floor.

Bilbo clawed at the carpet runner, trying to pull himself out of the grasp on his legs. If he could just get free enough to run, he could reach the chest down the hall where Sting was tucked away with Thorin’s armor and a few other trinkets from his travels.

“Hold still!” growled the one who had knocked him down.

“Unlikely!“ Bilbo turned, swinging an arm back and awkwardly clubbing the attacker that was trying to pull him back out the door. Another curse, and Bilbo tried to kick his feet when the one he’d gotten in the groin came stumbling into the house, one hand holding his crotch and the other clutching to the giant sack. 

Bilbo lashed out, tussling with the two as best he could. He kicked and punched, thinking he might actually be able to escape when, one minute he had his hands free, and the next there was darkness as he was shoved head first into the bag. He tumbled, cursing as it was pulled and dragged across the ground. He had one foot still sticking out as they cinched it tight around his ankle and lifted him up with a series of grunts and pants.

“He’s heavy!” whined one of them, followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a yelp of pain.

“Just get him on the pony before someone comes by!”

Bilbo shouted, wriggling and writhing, head hurting as he was carried upside-down in the sack to wherever they were headed. 

He hoped desperately that they at least had the courtesy to lock his door--Bilbo had only _just_ gotten all his things back. 

They hauled him up onto the back of what Bilbo assumed was a pony, letting him hang over like some piece of luggage. Bilbo nearly fell off when they first started moving, and the two kidnappers bickered for another few minutes (their voices sounded off, raspy growls like they wanted to sound deeper and more intimidating) before Bilbo found himself lifted and put in front of one of the riders so they could hold him steady.

“You lot don’t seem to really know what you’re doing,” Bilbo pointed out, his head feeling swollen from being upside-down for so long. The one he was on the pony with gave him a poke in the side.

“We know perfectly well what we’re doing.”

“Shut up!” snapped the other one from nearby, and Bilbo was distinctly reminded of the time he’d tried to outsmart cave trolls. Bilbo squirmed, wriggling the toes of his foot that was sticking out of the sack and wondering how long it would take for him to pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. 

They must have been traveling for a good half hour before Bilbo was trying to squirm his elbow out from under his gut. He wriggled again, gasping when a single movement had him feeling unbearably lightheaded. He managed a tiny noise of distress before being struck with vertigo as things flashed white and then went dark. 

\--

Bilbo woke up to the creaking of wheels, a pounding headache, and a foul taste in his mouth. The foul taste he quickly realized was a sock that they’d gagged him with before using rope to keep it in place. Bilbo cringed, trying desperately to spit part of it out but they’d tied the rope so tight he was forced to suffer and breathe through his nose. His hands and ankles were bound together in a hog tie, making it hard to do more than lift his head and peer around the covered wagon that his captors had put him in. 

Though it was nice of them to give Bilbo a more accommodating form of imprisonment, the entire feeling was negated by the dirty sock they’d stuffed in his mouth. He squirmed, rolling onto his stomach and then inching forward until he could properly see the backs of the two kidnappers. They were sitting on the small bench at the front of the wagon, both wearing hoods that covered the backs of their heads from view. Bilbo grunted, and then made a louder noise to try and get their attention. If they were nice enough to put him in a wagon, surely they could take the sock out now that he was awake. 

The one on the left turned, his face hidden behind a wooden mask, and said, “if you make so much noise, we wouldn’t have to gag you.”

The one on the right--with a mask made of cloth that covered all but his eyes--leaned in close to his friend, and Bilbo had to strain his ears to hear, “he’s going to kill us.”

“we’re doing what we’re told.”

“oh yeah, try telling _him_ that.”

“Shut your gob, you big baby,” snapped the one with the wooden mask, “we’re doing this for the good of our people.”

Bilbo squirmed, inching forward until he was able to headbutt at wooden mask’s back. “Untie me this instant!” he shouted, but with the sock gag it sounded more like, “uhhnn hnn mmh fffn hhnnenn!” 

Cloth mask reached out, pushing Bilbo’s head firmly until he was entirely back in the wagon once more. “Sorry,” he said, patting Bilbo’s curls like he was some sort of child, “just sit there and be quiet, yeah?”

Bilbo hoped desperately that his glower was conveying all of the death wishes that were currently going through his head.

He was left in silence for the rest of the day, stomach aching with hunger in a way that was almost familiar to Bilbo if only because he’d had the same pains all during his travels to Erebor. It made him wonder why on earth he’d been taken from his home; had Lobelia bribed some cutthroats to off him? Bilbo had already made revisions to his will, even if that were the case, and all her efforts would be for naught when they found out that Primula and Drogo were to inherit all of Bag End. 

On the other hand, Bilbo didn’t plan on letting these captors reach their destination. He’d been tied up enough times to know that, eventually, ropes could be worn apart. It took forever to pick at his bonds, but by the time nightfall came, Bilbo had already worn the ropes down to half their thickness. 

They settled off the side of the road, Wooden mask constructing a fire while Cloth wandered off to retrieve firewood. Food was mostly stale bread and broth, and when Cloth went to remove Bilbo’s gag to feed him, Bilbo snapped at his fingers. He caught the man’s index finger, chomping down as hard as he could and earning a loud yelp from Cloth. The finger was wrenched out of his mouth and Cloth held it to his chest protectively.

“I know you’re hungry, but that’s a bit dramatic!” Cloth mask rasped, shaking his hand and holding it up to squint at the damage--where Bilbo’s teeth had nicked through the skin enough to cause some blood to pool up.

Wooden mask was chortling nearby, stirring the remainder of the broth and calling out, “don’t know what you expected, getting that close to him!”

Cloth mask turned, “well I didn’t expect him to _bite_ me!”

Bilbo tried his best to mimic one of Thorin’s menacing scowls, “Next time I’ll take the whole finger off if you don’t let me go this instant!”

The two looked at one another, gesturing vaguely before wooden mask stood up and marched around the campfire to approach them, “sorry to say, but you won’t be eating any fingers, Mr. Hobbit,” he said, grabbing Bilbo’s head from behind and forcing his mouth open. 

“Pour the broth in,” he said to his companion. Cloth mask looked uneasy, eyes flitting from Bilbo to Wooden mask.

Bilbo struggled, but then realized that he was terribly hungry anyway and there would be better times to fight. So he opened his mouth, making sure to bare his teeth just so they didn’t think he was complying out of fear. Cloth mask took some bread, dipping it in the broth and then dropping it into Bilbo’s mouth with a quick jerk--hand wrenching back as Bilbo started to chew. 

“Don’t act like such a child!” Wooden mask chastised. Cloth dipped another bit of bread into the broth, holding it out.

“If you want to get your finger chomped on, be my guest!”

“I’m holdin’ his head, you’ve got to be the one to feed him!”

“You’re only doin’ it so you don’t get your finger bit off!” Cloth argued, and then dropped the bread into Bilbo’s mouth in much the same manner as he had before. Bilbo barely finished chewing before he swallowed and opened his mouth again, stomach aching now that he’d put a bit of food into it. 

Once they’d finished feeding him half a loaf and tipped the rest of the broth into his mouth, Bilbo’s captives left him tied to the wagon while they polished off their own meals. He squirmed, trying to wriggle one hand free of the bonds and then giving up when his shoulder started to ache terribly. A thought came to mind, and he perked up, “excuse me,” he called out, catching the attention of both his captors--who had turned their backs to Bilbo while they ate. Cloth mask sat up, pulling his covering up before he turned.

“I need to… well.. I have bodily needs to attend to.”

To hear Wooden choke on his food was not what Bilbo expected. Cloth leaned in close to his companion and they started to hiss back and forth, exchanging a few punches to the shoulder and a good smack upside the head from Wooden to Cloth. Finally, Wooden put his mask on, turning to Bilbo and saying imperiously, “I’m afraid you’ll have to… erm…control your desires.”

“Isn’t it a bit inappropriate to want to get your rocks off when you’ve been kidnapped?” Cloth piped up, yelping when Wooden walloped him hard on the shoulder. Bilbo stared for a moment before the words finally processed.

“Desi--no! I have to use the loo!”

“Oh!” his captors chimed together in unison. Bilbo was seriously wondering if these creatures really were descendants of trolls. 

They came over, Wooden reaching behind to untie Bilbo’s arms from the wagon while Cloth bent down to free his legs. Bilbo didn’t even get the chance to try and kick out before Wooden was tugging on the rope attached to his arms and pulling him towards the forest. Bilbo stilled when he caught the glint of a dagger, and all thoughts of escaping quickly drained from his head. 

He scurried along beside Wooden mask, standing awkwardly when they came to a pause near some bushes.

“Well?” Wooden asked, “go on then.”

“I’ve still got my trousers on,” Bilbo pointed out. Wooden released a sigh, shoving his dagger into his belt and then making three attempts to reach for Bilbo’s breeches before he finally followed through. They were wrenched down abruptly before Wooden mask stood and turned, allowing Bilbo some privacy. Bilbo hadn’t expected for his captor pull his trousers all the way down, and so now any chance of running off was ruined by the fact that he had his trousers trapped around his ankles. Sighing, Bilbo pressed up against a tree, leaning forward enough so that he could relieve himself (because he really did have to go, anyway) into the bushes. 

Once done, Wooden mask was just as hurried to get Bilbo’s trousers back on and laced up. He stomped his way back to their campsite, pulling Bilbo along like some sort of cattle, and then tossed the rope at Cloth mask, “tie him back up and get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”

Bilbo, as much as he’d hoped his captors were somewhat incompetent, proved to be good enough that he had no chance to truly escape. The next morning went much like the night before, and the days started to blend together in a blur of rocky wagon rides and nights under the stars. Bilbo desperately missed his previous traveling companions; the laughter and warmth that came with nights spent in a circles of dwarves. He missed Fili and Kili’s bickering, and Thorin’s disapproving stare that hid the tiniest of grins in the corners of his lips. Each morning he awoke expecting Bofur or Ori to be shaking his shoulder, only to stare up into masks that hid almost all features belonging to his kidnappers.

The longer it went on, the more desperate Bilbo was to get free. They kept him under the wagon most days and so Bilbo hadn’t a clue where they were going. His mind started to wander--trying to remember who he had wronged during his travels and coming up blank. He vaguely knew of some underground slave traders, but he steadfastedly clung to the hope that he hadn’t been taken to be put into servitude. 

Days blended into weeks until Bilbo had completely lost track of all time. His only interaction was with his captors--who often gave him vague answers and were often so dodgy that it terrified Bilbo to know what their purpose for him was. They were henchmen, no doubt, but henchmen were usually the worst and without any morals at all. 

Bilbo had gotten into the habit of staring out the back of the wagon to watch the scenery, often thinking to himself how he would write his book and dwelling on fond memories. It did little to help with his boredom after the first month, but when Bilbo had suggested getting a book for him to read, the two kidnappers had stared at one another and then informed Bilbo that they didn’t read and thus had no books. 

He’d dozed off doing exactly that one night when the sound of his captors talking brought him into wakefulness. 

“There’s someone up ahead--are they elves?”

“No, far too roguishly handsome to be elves.”

“They’re headed this way,” and then there was a creaking as Wooden mask turned and grabbed Bilbo’s leg while telling his companion to, “pull off the road.”

The wagon rattled and Bilbo didn’t even have time to struggle before a bag was shoved over his head. It was hard to discern who was talking over the rustle of the bag on his head, and Bilbo strained his ears. The talking suddenly dissolved into shouting before the sound of clanging weapons broke through the air.

“Take that, bandit!” cried a voice that sounded vaguely familiar, followed by more clashing. Grunts and shouts filled the air before there was a despairing cry.

“Oh, these dwarves are far too strong! We have to run or be killed!”

There was a scraping sound, followed by the thunder of feet stamping on the ground that suddenly cut off. Bilbo squirmed as silence fell.

“Hello?”

Hushed whispers and the shifting of cloth came from nearby. Clothes swished and weapons clanked and Bilbo called out again, “is anyone there?”

“We’ve come to save you, Bilbo!” came the reply--in that still familiar voice. Bilbo frowned, chest tightening with hope.

“Kili?”

At the sound of cursing and more whispering, and Bilbo wriggled his way towards the edge of the wagon, “Kili, I’m in here!” he shouted, figuring that the two of them were trying to locate the source of his voice. There was a grunt and rustle and then someone approaching as the bag was pulled off of his head. Fili was grinning down at him, his hair in a frizzy mess and sweat on his face. He had a cut on his lip but otherwise looked completely unharmed.

“Master Baggins!” he cried, pulling Bilbo out of the wagon and quickly going about undoing the rope. Bilbo looked around, catching sight of Kili hauling a bag up on his shoulder and then approaching.

“What are the two of you doing here?” Bilbo asked, rubbing his wrists after Fili cut away the last of the rope, “where am I?”

Fili clapped a hand to Bilbo’s shoulder, “word came from the Shire that you’d gone missing and we decided to come find you.”

Scowling, Bilbo looked down at his arms and then up at Fili, “the Shire? Who told? How did word get out this fast?”

Fili’s eyes went wide, mouth dropping open for a blank second before he let out a loud laugh and dragged Bilbo into a hug, “word travels fast, I guess. We’ve missed you.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but sag a little into Fili’s arms. He returned the embrace, missing this desperately. The last time he’d been hugged had been the day he’d left Erebor to return to the Shire and all of Thorin’s company had practically piled onto him at once. 

Kili came up behind Bilbo, squeezing the hobbit between the two of them. “We’re so glad you’re safe!” Kili cried, “who knows what those clever bandits could have done to you!”

“Clever?” Bilbo laughed, “those two were about as clever as a pair of trolls.”

In his arms, Fili went still and then pulled back to stare at Bilbo with a frown, “they captured you, didn’t they?” he asked. 

Kili made a noise of agreement, “can’t have been that dumb if they managed to get you this far without you escaping.”

Incredulous, Bilbo stared at the both of them and then shook his head, “well, I suppose you’re right--but it was mostly the fact that they were good at tying knots than anything else.”

“Knot tying is a very difficult skill to master,” Kili said with a thoughtful noise. The two dwarves stared at one another and then they each looked to Bilbo.

“You should come to Erebor--” Kili began.

“--just to be safe,” Fili finished.

“We can protect you in case they come after you again. Besides, you said you’d come visit!”

Bilbo sighed, running his hands through his hair, “well, yes, but it’s a very long journey and I had wanted a little time to rest--”

“You can rest in Erebor!” Kili protested, gesturing vaguely, “Bombur will cook you feasts and uncle will give you whatever you need to be happy!”

“Uncle is very fond of you,” Fili crossed his arms, grinning wide at Bilbo. 

Kili wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s shoulder, “it’s settled then--we’ll take you to Erebor,” he said, steering Bilbo towards the front of the wagon and then hesitating, “oh… it looks like our ponies ran off.”

“Shame,” Fili huffed, “they were good ponies…but we can take the ones these bandits were using.”

Bilbo shrugged, “might as well use the wagon, too, I suppose,” he suggested. It was a little odd that their ponies had spooked off so easily, but it wouldn’t be the first time this had happened. Fili and Kili grinned.

“Great idea, Bilbo!” Kili proclaimed, reaching out and then hauling Bilbo up like he was a child and depositing the halfling on the small wagon bench. Both brothers settled in on either side of him, with Fili grabbing the reigns while Kili dropped his bag into the back of the wagon with the rest of the bandits’ supplies. 

“All set?” Fili asked, looking to Bilbo and then Kili before getting the ponies moving. 

Kili stretched his arms, sucking in a long breath and squinting up at the sun, “I love it when the air is fresh and clean. You know, we’re only a day’s time from the Misty Mountains,” he nudged Bilbo in the side, eyes crinkling with the brightness of his smile. 

Bilbo couldn’t help the tiny flutter in his chest, realizing they were only a months’ travel from Erebor. That same excitement was met with anxiety and dread, because there was a very distinct reason Bilbo had been avoiding visiting the Lonely Mountain. It meant more months of ignoring the way he felt about Thorin. It was so much easier to forget when he was hundreds of miles away in the Shire, but with Thorin in close proximity, Bilbo knew he would start pining all over again like he had during those last few months of their time together. 

Not that he’d ever really stopped, but at least it wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t surrounded with a constant reminder. 

Traveling with Fili and Kili was much more bearable than being dragged about by two masked bandits. Bilbo still hadn’t the slightest idea why they’d taken him in the first place, but it was a relief to be safe with his friends and heading to a familiar place after spending so much time as a captive. 

Granted, without their uncle or friends to keep them in check, the brothers bickered a lot and sang off-key twice as much. It was a wonder that they hadn’t entirely ruined the Company’s singing that first night in Bag End years ago. Bilbo found himself the subject of focus for days on end, bombarded with asinine questions about hobbit culture and things like if Bilbo preferred fish over chicken or vice versa. He felt utterly drained by the second week, when they finally hit a town big enough to possess an Inn that accommodated smaller folk like dwarves and hobbits.

While Bilbo enjoyed himself with a warm bath and soft robe before curling up in bed, Fili and Kili spent the evening at the bar. It was well into the night before the two came stumbling up into the room and tussling their way to the other bed on the opposite end of the room. There was giggling and hushed whispers, followed by the thud and crash of a lamp being knocked over.

Their laughter died down soon enough, and for the first night in many months, Bilbo slept comfortably. 

They started out again the next morning after breakfast and a quick restock of supplies (how on earth they had thought to bring enough coin in the first place, Bilbo was amazed). Each day that passed made Bilbo more and more restless with excitement and anxiety until they finally came upon the pass that lead into Erebor. Bilbo was suddenly overcome with the desire to leap off the wagon and run all the way back to Bag End when there came shouting from up on one of the castle balconies. Bilbo looked up, surprised to see the faint outline of what might have been Bofur, and couldn’t help but wave back at the mad arm flailing they were being given.

The closer they got, the better Bilbo could see that Thorin was waiting for them just outside the gates. Bilbo dragged in a sharp breath, letting it out as his right foot began to bounce nervously up and down. He could do this, it wasn’t like he hadn’t promised to come visit anyway. There was absolutely no reason for Bilbo to be anxious over a silly reunion, not even when they pulled up to the front gates and Thorin’s mouth quirked into the tiniest of smiles when he locked eyes with Bilbo.

“Thorin!” Kili cried, “look, we found Bilbo!”

Thorin’s focus shifted to his youngest nephew, eyebrow quirking as the dwarf standing beside Thorin made their way over. It must have been Fili and Kili’s mother, Dis, because she looked like an exact replica of Thorin (with softer facial hair and more jewels) and yet somehow more menacing. 

“…found,” Thorin echoed stiffly, just as his sister reached up to snag one of Fili’s mustache braids, wrenching so hard he toppled out of the wagon with a yelp.

“Good on you, running off without a word to your poor mother about where you’d gone or if you had even taken your little brother with you!” 

“Mum!” Fili cringed, almost bent in half to try and stop her from ripping the braid out of his face entirely, “we were just goin’ to get the halfling!”

“Yes!” Kili cried, jumping out of the wagon and flailing his arms about, “we had to save him! From bandits!”

Thorin’s focus snapped from watching his sister torture her son with amusement, to look at Kili and then Bilbo, “bandits?” he rasped, “what bandits?”

“the ones that kidnapped him!” Fili exclaimed, “you know… we got word from the Shire--and had to go searching for him? Ooow--mama, that hurts!”

“As it well should!” Dis snarled.

Bilbo climbed down from the wagon, “it was rather convenient of them. I don’t know where I’d be by now if they hadn’t come across the path my captors were taking.”

Thorin‘s eyes narrowed, darting from one nephew to the other in a way that made Bilbo think that perhaps he’d expected the two of them to find Bilbo faster or something. “Yes, very fortunate.”

Dis finally released Fili’s beard, giving him a shove so hard that he went tumbling into Kili, knocking the both of them to the ground. She marched on over to Bilbo, reaching out to brush at his dirty hair, “you must be exhausted from traveling with these two hellions--” she shot her sons a pointed look, “why don’t we get you settled in your room?”

“My room?” Bilbo echoed, feeling a little dizzy from everything that was happening at once. Thorin pushed his sister out of the way, placing his palm against Bilbo’s back just low enough on his spine that Bilbo’s skin broke out into gooseflesh. 

“You told us you’d visit; and so we had a room set aside for the day you’d come,” Thorin murmured, guiding Bilbo away from his family and then leaning in close, “if I’m to be honest, I’m not entirely upset that …bandits…caused you to end up here.”

Bilbo sighed, wanting desperately to lean into the warmth of Thorin’s body. He hadn’t even realized how badly he’d missed Thorin until just then, walking through Erebor in stride with the King like he’d never left. “Well, I still haven’t the slightest notion of what they’d taken me for, but it was lucky for me that Fili and Kili were even able to spot us on the road. It was rather dark, and I was inside the cover of the wagon.”

“Must have been Kili’s keen eye that spotted you,” Thorin mused dryly, just as they reached the royal corridor. Thorin opened up the third door on the right, gesturing for Bilbo to head inside.

“Wash up--there should be some clothes in there that you can change into. Once you’re ready to come out, I’m sure the rest of the company will be happy to see you.”

Looking up from where he’d been marveling at the intricacy of the four poster bed’s design, Bilbo grinned, “of course. I shan’t take too long.”

Thorin nodded, hesitating for a moment before, “it’s good to see you again.”

“You, as well,” Bilbo echoed, feeling a bit of elation swell up in his chest. Thorin cleared his throat, nodding and shutting the door to leave Bilbo to bathe and dress.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Bilbo did after he washed himself was to roam around his room for a few minutes and inspect every nook and cranny of his new living arrangements. He had to wonder how long they’d been anticipating his visit when he realized most of the drawers were stuffed full of the finest clothes Bilbo had ever seen. The ones he had chosen to wear were soft and light; a pale blue tunic with tan breeches that hung just loose enough for him to move about comfortably. 

There were various maps littering the walls and a shelf full of books that covered different cultures from all around Middle Earth. Bilbo wasted a good minute standing on the soft woolen rug that sat at the foot of his bed, shuffling his feet and wriggling his toes just to prolong the sensation. 

He was rubbing his heel back and forth along the rug when his eye caught another, more subtle door on the opposite end of the room. It was cracked open, light flickering from the other side. Bilbo shuffled forward, curiosity getting the best of him, and he pulled the door open to reveal a secondary suite. The far corner of the room had a small pond built onto a hill of soil--water hyacinth, ivy, ferns, and a variety of other plants in and around the pond. There were lamps placed about the room with mirrors beside them, reflecting and casting a warm glow everywhere as they flickered occasionally. The plumbing of the room had apparently been rigged, allowing a small trickle of water to come from a pipe near one end of the pond, making it bubble soothingly. 

It reminded Bilbo so much of the Shire that his heart gave a painful ache as he stepped closer to the pond. He reached out, fingers brushing over a plant he didn’t recognize, feeling the leaves beneath his palm before bending down and dipping a finger into the pond. The water was cool, with the same slight metallic smell that Bilbo remembered in most of the water systems of Erebor. 

“The king had it built for you the day you left back home. Figured by the time you came back, everythin’ would be growin’ and lookin’ like your home in the Shire.”

Bilbo shot to his feet, whirling around in surprise to see Bofur hovering in the doorway, a tiny grin on his face. Bilbo brushed a bit of soil and moss from his knees--most of the grass nothing more than lichen that seemed to thrive in candlelight. He felt something in his chest clench tight at the idea that Thorin had gone so much out of his way to give Bilbo something familiar during his stays in Erebor. He grinned nonetheless, crossing the room to clasp his hand to Bofur’s arm.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, almost jumping out of his skin when Bofur rolled his eyes and dragged Bilbo into a crushing embrace. Bilbo patted Bofur’s back, relaxing enough to enjoy the contact before pulling away. 

“I heard you ran wrong of a couple bandits,” Bofur’s eyes crinkled as he grinned, “don’t look so bad, considering. Stroke of luck that Thorin’s boys found you, yeah?”

It wasn’t surprising that word had spread in the time it had taken Bilbo to wash up. He sighed, nodding. “I still haven’t a clue why they took me. I’m honestly hoping there’s not a bounty on my head somewhere that I don’t know about. It’d be rather dreadful to find my face on posters all around the towns of men, you know.”

Bofur chuckled, shaking his head and rubbing Bilbo’s shoulder affectionately. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Master Hobbit. I’m sure they were just a couple of rogues looking to sell you into slavery or something’ of the like.”

“Slavery?” Bilbo gulped. He didn’t like the idea of that--not at all. 

Bofur nodded, placing a hand against Bilbo’s back and guiding him into the master suite. “Oh yes, dreadful stuff it is. They love the little folk; easier to transport and they can pack more of you in a wagon when it comes time to sell you off to the highest bidder.”

Bilbo felt the blood drain from his face, stomach churning at the mere idea. He fiddled with one of his sleeves, trying desperately not to think too deeply on what his fate might have been. “I suppose I should be more grateful to Fili and Kili than I have been.”

“Too right,” Bofur agreed, nodding seriously, “they must have searched half of Middle Earth for you--gone through hell and back to save our burglar.”

Sighing, Bilbo pursed his lips, “I suppose I should thank them properly,” he admitted, twisting his hands together. He hadn’t a penny on him, so it was going to be hard to come up with anything to give the two siblings to properly show his gratitude. Bofur made a soft hum of thought, reaching up to stroke at his beard.

“You’ve got all the time in the world for that. How’s about we get something in that belly of yours first, though, hm?” 

As if on cue, Bilbo’s stomach gave an angry gurgle and he remembered that it had been nearly four hours since he’d last eaten. He nodded, “food sounds lovely right about now, actually.”

On their way out the door, Bofur hesitated and gestured to a sheathe sitting innocently on the dresser. “Don’t want to forget to wear that.”

Bilbo stared, frowning, “it hasn’t got anything in it,” he muttered as he crossed the room to pick the sheathe up. It was made of sturdy leather, the belt studded with fine gems and looking just long enough to fit snug around Bilbo’s waist.

“Aye, but you never know when a knife will come to you. Best to put it on just in case.” Bofur replied softly. Bilbo couldn’t find it in himself to protest--not when he didn’t have any bracers to help keep his breeches on and they _were_ a smidge too big for him. He could use the sheathe’s belt to keep his trousers up, if nothing else. 

Once ready, now with his new belt, Bilbo was led out of his chambers and down the hall. The mountain itself was a winding maze of pathways and cold stone; so much so that Bilbo wished he’d thought to grab the fur-lined coat that had been sitting innocently in a chair in the corner of his bedroom. He didn’t complain, though, because he was far too busy admiring all of the work that Thorin and the dwarves had achieved in the past months. 

Erebor was becoming a thing of splendor once more--halls lined with tapestries and statues of all shapes and sizes and the lower sections of the mountain filled with the sounds of dwarves back to work mining deep into the core. The gold that had once littered the halls were no more, most of it replaced with other types of precious metals. 

It was as if Thorin had grown sick of gold after he’d overcome the fever that had caused him to nearly go mad when they had first defeated Smaug.

Bofur led him down a few more halls and into a large chamber bursting with the sound of chatter and the scent of hot food. Turning slightly, Bofur gave Bilbo a bright grin, “since some of the livin’ quarters are still bein’ fixed up, we’ve got the kitchens workin full time to keep everyone fed and happy.”

“Is Bombur in there?” Bilbo blurted unthinkingly, suddenly excited to see even more of his old friends. Bofur cracked a smile, shaking his head.

“Bombur works tomorrow. The kitchen staff’s on rotatin’ shifts. Don’t you fret, though, you’ll see everyone soon enough. Who knows, maybe one or two of ‘em will come by for a snack while you’re eatin‘.”

In the end, it didn’t seem to matter if Bilbo knew the kitchen staff or not--because they knew him plenty. It was a flurry of excited chatter ranging from hobbit customs to Bilbo’s journey with Thorin’s company and what it had been like to do battle with Smaug the fire drake. Bilbo’s head was spinning by the time Bofur had him seated in a small corner of the dining area attached to the kitchen. 

There were two young dwarven lasses (female, Bilbo knew, because of the style of their headdresses and the necklaces upon their breasts--he’d never been more thankful to have let Balin ramble to him about their customs until now) who bustled to load him up with the best food in the kitchens, evidently excited to have the ’famous burglar’ in their midst. 

Bofur, the great help that he was, watched it all with a grin, puffing on his pipe every now and then. They finally left Bilbo when he begged them for no more food, and that his time in captivity had shrunken his stomach. It was a bit of a stretch because he’d spent equal time with Fili and Kili, who had appetites big enough to rival all of Hobbiton, but he’d only said it in hopes of getting some reprieve to eat in peace. 

He was halfway through his meal when the sound of someone calling his name in delight drew Bilbo’s attention to the entrance. Ori was rushing over, smiling brightly and clutching his sketchbook in one hand, waving with the other. Bilbo quickly swallowed his mouthful of roasted pheasant, wiping his mouth with his napkin and standing up to receive Ori’s embrace. 

“I thought you’d never come back!” Ori cried delightedly, pulling away to allow Bilbo to sit down and resume eating.

“Well I had planned on it,” Bilbo began, spearing a bit of russet potato soaked in rosemary butter, “but my home was broken into not too long ago and some bandits stole me away,” he explained, biting the potato off of his fork and chewing. Ori’s eyes went wide and Bofur made a choking noise, smoke coming out his nose and ears.

“Bandits?!” Ori echoed in horror. Bilbo nodded, finally glad to have at least one friend who would sympathize with how utterly dreadful the experience had been.

“Two of them, in the middle of the night.”

“How did you get away!”

“Fili and Kili had come after me after having caught wind from the Shire of my disappearance. Did you not hear?” Bilbo frowned; as a matter of fact, he was surprised so few had known about the kidnapping. Ori shook his head, holding his sketchbook tightly.

“I’ve been working in the library these past few months. Nobody talks to me much unless it’s to bring me food or remind me to sleep,” he admitted sheepishly, “there’s a lot of work to be done there.”

Bilbo nibbled on a steamed radish, nodding as Bofur leaned in and tapped a finger on the table. “You know, he was gagged and blindfolded for near two months!”

Ori gaped and Bilbo almost bit clean down to his fork as Bofur gave Bilbo a wink and kept talking. “Yep, it’s amazing’ he’s able to eat anything right now. They were near starving him--It’s a miracle he’s with us right now!”

“Bofur--” Bilbo began, but Ori interrupted before the situation could be remedied.

“Starved him! Oh, I’d like to find those two bandits and give them a taste of steel right in the eye, I would! I hope the princes showed those two what-for!”

“Yes, well--” Bilbo started.

“Sure did! Had to do something to get back at the way they were practically torturing our poor hobbit!” Bofur proclaimed, “tyin’ him up and draggin’ him behind their cart! He looked a right mess by the time the boys found him!”

“Bofur--”

“They’re lucky I wasn’t there! I’d have made sure they were beggin’ for mercy by the time I was through with ‘em!” Ori shouted, utterly incensed as he slammed a fist on the table. Bilbo jumped, reaching a hand out and clasping his palm over Ori’s fist.

“It’s quite all right, Ori. I’m fine. Bofur’s just playing it up. I wasn’t hurt at all, I assure you,” he soothed, wiping at his mouth with his napkin with his free hand. Ori looked sad, mouth turned into a scowl. He clutched to Bilbo’s fingers, holding his hand tightly.

“It’s okay, Bilbo,” Ori said quietly, “You shouldn’t be ashamed that two bandits got the best of you.” 

Bilbo spluttered, watching as Ori stood up, looking determined. “I’ll make sure the whole mountain knows your story. You’ll be safe as stone here; you’ve got all of Erebor to protect you.”

With that, Ori scurried off, barely out the doorway before Bofur was bursting out into mad laughter, holding his gut and kicking his legs up so much that he toppled off the bench and onto the floor. Bilbo scowled at him.

“That was completely unnecessary,” he pointed out sourly, knowing now that when word got to Thorin and the others, they would likely treat him as if he were made of glass and prone to break at any moment. 

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Bofur pulled himself back up onto the bench, patting Bilbo’s shoulder firmly. “Aw, ‘twas just a bit of fun,” he teased, chuckling when Bilbo swatted his hand away. 

“Don’t look so sour,” Bofur chided, “with a face like that, you’ll start to look like our beloved king on a good day.”

Just thinking of Thorin had Bilbo’s face heating up. He stared down at his plate, stirring some of his potatoes into the gravy that he’d doused his pheasant with. “You say that like he’s never smiled,” he pointed out, glancing up through his bangs, “and I know that isn’t true.” 

“Aye,” Bofur agreed, going solemn as he leaned in close, “and _I_ know that you’re the one that makes him smile the most.”

The burning in Bilbo’s face grew tenfold, spreading out to his ears and down his neck as Bofur leaned back with a knowing smirk. 

“Well,” Bilbo huffed, taking a swig of wine and then following up with a deeper, heavier drink to help bolster himself, “that’s likely because I’m the only one in the whole company who could hold an intelligent conversation.”

“Oh yeah, sure it is,” Bofur agreed dryly, still grinning that infernal smirk of his. Huffing in exasperation, Bilbo pushed himself up to his feet, dabbing his lips with the napkin one last time. Bofur stood a well, digging his hands into the pockets of his jacket and rocking onto his heels.

“Speaking of our good old King, are you ready to go see him now that you’ve been cleaned and fed?”

“Beg pardon?” Bilbo hurriedly looked down at his tunic, brushing away bits of food and then picking at a dabble of cream that was on his collar. If he’d known that he was to see Thorin again so soon, he would have at least attempted to do something with his hair before letting Bofur take him to the kitchens.

“Thorin’s been waitin’ for you since you got here. You don’t honestly think he’d just say hello and then let you wander the mountain on your own, do ya?”

“I have you,” Bilbo pointed out, following Bofur back into the halls. He fussed with his hair, tugging at his bangs and coiling the locks in front of his ears around his finger to give them a bit more curl. Bofur hummed in agreement, instead deciding to point to some of the tapestries and explain their origins, as if allowing for a subject change for the sake of Bilbo‘s sanity. 

The deeper they went into the mountain, the colder it was until Bilbo found himself struggling to keep from shivering. Bofur looked entirely unaffected by the chill, as did all the other dwarves that they passed by. Bilbo had only just arrived--and had spent many months traveling through every element of Middle Earth. It wouldn’t do to ask for a coat just because he was a little colder than everyone else. 

Most of the dwarves they passed by took time to wave and greet both Bofur and Bilbo, calling him Master Hobbit and Great Burglar, as if Bilbo were something of legend. It made Bilbo wonder exactly what Thorin and the company had told the inhabitants of Erebor after Bilbo had left for the Shire. 

Bofur brought him to a massive, ornate door encrusted with every type of metal and gem known to man. There was a guard on each side, but they hurried to push the door open upon seeing Bofur and Bilbo approach.

“This would be the armory,” Bofur explained, “used to be the king’s treasury, but we’ve decided to change things a little since Thorin’s grandfather had the throne.”

They stepped inside, revealing rows and rows of intricate armor and weaponry that stretched for a great length across the massive room. At the center of it all stood Thorin, hunched over a table with Dwalin on one side and a few dwarves Bilbo didn’t recognize on the other. 

Bilbo felt his heart skip inside of his chest, feeling suddenly warmer than he had during their entire trip down into the mountain. He smiled when Thorin and Dwalin looked over at them, feeling elated to see matching grins on both of their faces. 

While Thorin turned to speak with his companions, Dwalin crossed the room, coming up to the door and grabbing Bilbo’s shoulders firmly. “By my beard,” he chuckled, “I think you’ve gotten smaller since you were last here.” Dwalin didn’t wait for Bilbo to give him a response, ducking in and pressing his forehead to Bilbo. Bilbo held Dwalin’s broad shoulders, pushing up into the greeting touch.

“I must say, this is much nicer than last one you gave me,” Bilbo uttered, earning a loud laugh from Dwalin as he pulled back.

“The last one I gave you knocked you clean unconscious, boy!”

“It did,” Bilbo agreed, his head still throbbing with the memory. 

Thorin came up beside Dwalin, gesturing for the other dwarves to take their leave. All of them passed by in silence--tilting their head towards Bilbo in greeting as they left. The king’s eyes landed back on Bilbo, growing soft and then hardening.

“You’re not wearing the coat,” he said stiffly, eyes flitting down to hesitate at Bilbo’s hips before locking back on his face. Feeling under great scrutiny, Bilbo shifted and wrung his hands together.

“I might have been a tad excited to eat,” he confessed, “I clean forgot about it until we were already halfway to the kitchens. It’s a lovely coat, though. Much finer than anything I’ve ever owned.”

Thorin sighed, shifting and sliding his own fur coat from his shoulders. Bilbo tried to protest, but all words left him when Thorin practically forced his arms through the sleeves. The coat was blissfully warm, Thorin’s scent heady and strong. Bilbo couldn’t help but pull his arms around himself, burying his face into the furs at the shoulders when they bunched in close. The dwarves around him laughed--knowing full well how much Bilbo liked to be warm--and Bilbo felt himself overcome with a swell of affection for all of them.

He’d missed this dearly when he’d returned to the Shire. He’d ached for familiarity and for people who knew him inside and out the way that Thorin’s company had over time. No hobbit had ever made Bilbo feel so welcome and understood, and he’d forgotten that until now, ensconced in Thorin’s massive coat with some of his best friends surrounding him.

Bilbo glanced up, eyes locking with Thorin’s and finding himself short of breath once more. Thorin’s eyes were sharp and intense, watching his every move with a warmth Bilbo hadn’t ever seen before. Thorin reached out, pulling Bilbo into a sudden and strong embrace so much like their first that it took Bilbo a second to pull himself out of his memories.

“It is good to see you again,” Thorin murmured into his ear. Bilbo wrapped his arms about Thorin’s middle, squeezing as tight as his weaker hobbit arms would allow. Thorin grunted, chuckling and pulling away. “You’ve gotten stronger.”

“Or maybe you’ve gotten weaker from sitting on that throne all day.” Bilbo teased, “Soon even the babes will be able to beat you in a fight.”

Dwalin snorted and Thorin looked torn between laughing and looking offended. He settled on rolling his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching to hide a smile. “Come, then. I’ve yet to properly introduce you to my sister.” 

With that, Thorin guided them out of the armory, his hand a warm presence against the back of Bilbo’s shoulders. Bofur only followed them halfway up the mountain before he gestured vaguely, explaining his desire to go and visit Bifur before he disappeared down a corridor. They lost Dwalin not long after--his excuse far less coherent as he shuffled off in the direction of the library. 

“Cowards,” Thorin uttered, “all of them.”

“Hm?” Bilbo glanced up at Thorin to see him looking fairly sour.

“They fear my sister more than they fear me,” Thorin explained, “she has a very…overbearing personality.”

“Well, at least I know you’re related,” Bilbo commented, laughing when Thorin shot him a scandalized look. “I’m only teasing.”

“Hmfh,” Thorin grunted, as they headed down the royal corridors. They passed Bilbo’s room, reaching a few doors further down before Thorin stopped to knock. 

Dis practically wrenched the door open not a minute later, reaching out to bustle Bilbo into the room and to push Thorin right back out.

“You go do that thing,” she chided, “that you were supposed to do an hour ago.”

“Dis--” Thorin attempted, only to have his sister punch him right in the sternum and leave him wheezing in the hallway as she shut the door in his face.

Bilbo stood like a deer about to be hunted, feet frozen to the ground when Dis rounded on him. Thorin wasn’t lying about her presence--she made the room seem so small as she crossed over to Bilbo with determination.

“Look at this hair,” she fussed, reaching out and fiddling with Bilbo’s bangs, “it’s a wonder you weren’t mistaken for a human child on your journey!”

Bilbo clutched Thorin’s coat around himself as if it could protect him, giving the lady dwarf a hesitant smile. “I didn’t have time to comb it before Bofur took me to get something to eat, ma’am,” he explained. Dis huffed, flipping her hands too and fro and then stomping over to a chest of drawers and wrenching open the top drawer to rifle around.

“Nonsense! You’re in a mountain of dwarves and you haven’t got a single braid in your hair!” she chided, turning to reveal a comb in one hand and a handful of beads in the other. “No creature, hobbit or dwarf, can be courting my brother when looking like they haven’t touched their hair a day in their life!”

“Courting?” Bilbo spluttered, confusion and hope striking him all at once. 

Dis gave him a flat look, holding a bead up to his face, tutting and tossing it aside before doing the same with the next one. “Honestly, do you think the King of Erebor would give his coat to just anyone? Or that he’d build a blasted pond inside of a mountain for all of his companions?”

“Well, no,” Bilbo admitted, “but I had thought it might--”

“Oh, don’t be so foolish,” Dis snapped, finally settling on a pale silver bead with a single jade stone embedded in the center. “I’m sure you’re just like my brother--too afraid to say anything and just assuming the words. Folks wonder why there are so few women amongst our people, and I assure you it’s because we’d rather die old and alone than deal with the stubbornness of husbands.” As she chattered, Dis tugged and pulled on the hair in front of Bilbo’s right ear, braiding it tight so that even the short strands worked their way into the threading. 

It hurt, but at the same time Bilbo was a little too distracted by what Dis was saying to worry about if he was going to be scalped in the next twenty minutes. He’d always hoped there was something more between himself and Thorin--but with Men and their disgust at those of the same sex lying together, Bilbo had always been wary of assuming that there were folk other than hobbits who cared not if their love was male or female. 

It seemed dwarves may have shared the same views, or perhaps Thorin was just above the judgment of his kingdom. Either way, Bilbo couldn’t help but grin like a fool at the idea, listening to Dis ramble on about how aggravating it was to deal with a family of men and that they were much more dramatic than any woman Dis had ever known.

When she finished with the braid, Dis took a step back to admire her work. She grinned, the jewels across her head glinting in the light of the fireplace, and cupped Bilbo’s cheeks. “The stories I’ve heard of you, my brother is lucky to have you,” she said, pulling Bilbo in and bending down to bestow a kiss upon his forehead.

“O-oh,” Bilbo said softly, flustered and overwhelmed, “I wouldn’t say that, ma’am. I’m just a hobbit from the Shire. I’ve nothing to my name but some heirlooms and an empty house. If anything, I would be the lucky one.” 

Dis tutted, fiddling with the new braid at Bilbo’s side and letting it go so that it fell gently against his jaw. “My sons had to come fetch you just so that he could see you, I suppose it’s understandable that you don’t see the value of your life in his eyes.”

“Well,” Bilbo brought a hand up, fingering the braid, “I mean. I’m pretty sure that me being close to Erebor was more luck than anything. Bofur thinks that those who took me were looking to sell me into captivity. Hobbits seem to make a fair price on the market because we’re so small and fast.”

For a long moment, Dis stared before she burst out into laughter, clapping Bilbo harshly on the shoulder. “Oh, yes, my mistake. We were just so excited for you to visit that I completely forgot the circumstances that brought you here. Forgive me, little one.”

“It’s quite all right.“ Bilbo watched her bustle across the room, fiddling about in another drawer until she pulled out a set of bracers made of gem-studded leather. She frowned, tossing them to the side and rooting around some more.

“It’s so hard to make you look appealing to my brother when you’re so… tiny,” she bemoaned, “I fear not even any of my things would fit you.”

“Uhm, are you so sure that Thorin feels for me the way of which you speak?” Bilbo asked softly, bringing both palms up to pet at the soft fur of Thorin’s coat in a nervous movement. Dis looked at him over her shoulder like Bilbo was the most simple creature on earth. A knock came from the door and her expression morphed into one of glee.

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Dis hurried to answer the door, grabbing Bilbo on her way over and shoving him in front of her. Bilbo had less than a second to see Thorin on the other side before he was being tossed right into his arms. Bilbo let out a loud yelp, unprepared for such rough handling, and reflexively clung to Thorin’s arms when he was caught.

Thorin stared down at Bilbo, eyes zeroing in on the braid before he snapped his focus up to his sister and scowled. “What did you tell him?”

“Only the truth, sweet brother,” Dis chirped, and shut her bedroom door without another word to either of them.

“She’s rather… strong willed,” Bilbo said weakly, pushing himself to his feet and trying to resist the urge to jump back into Thorin’s arms then and there. 

Thorin cleared his throat, nodding seriously and reaching a hand out for Bilbo to take. “You should have seen her when we were younger,” he said dryly, fingers curling around Bilbo’s palm as he guided the hobbit down the hallway. Bilbo had to resist the urge to shudder--remembering exactly how much of a menace Lobelia had been during their tween years. It must have been hell for Thorin, no doubt.

“Well, she was nice enough to braid my hair.”

“I see that,” Thorin said softly as they reached Bilbo’s door. He hesitated, glancing to and fro across the corridor before reaching into his tunic to procure an item wrapped in worn leather. “Bilbo… it is my wish that you would accept this,” he said suddenly, shoving the item into Bilbo’s arms.

Bilbo took it on reflex, staring down at confusion at the feel of a dagger beneath the leather. He quickly uncovered it, inhaling sharply at the sight of a beautifully detailed hilt embedded with some of the finest gems Bilbo had ever seen. There were hundreds of designs etched into the blade itself, as if telling a story all on it’s own. 

Looking up at Thorin’s expectant face, Bilbo breathed, “I can’t accept this.”

Thorin’s expression iced over, lips thinning as he ducked his head. “I see,” he said roughly, reaching for the blade, “I was mistaken--”

“It’s far too much!” Bilbo cried, realizing that he might have offended some obscure custom by denying a king’s gift. “My whole home isn’t worth as much as this blade! Surely it’s only worthy of a king.”

“I made it for you,” Thorin said gruffly, “it is a blade worthy of the one who gave us back our home.”

Bilbo stared down at the dagger, the empty sheathe at his side suddenly feeling ten times heavier. He brought the blade close to his chest, grinning nervously up at Thorin. “Then… thank you,” he said, “even though it’s far too great a gift for a simple hobbit.”

Thorin’s face lit up, mouth breaking into a pleased smile as he reached out to take the blade. Bilbo handed it over, confused, and then watched as Thorin bent down to place it gently into the sheathe at his hip. When he straightened, his hands sought out Bilbo’s face, cupping his cheeks gently.

“It brings me great joy to know that you accept,” Thorin said softly. Bilbo had less than half a second to question exactly what he was accepting when Thorin leaned in and brushed their lips together in a gentle, barely-there kiss. 

Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat, heart going wild in his chest as everything suddenly made sense. He reached up, tangling his hands into Thorin’s hair and pulling him in tighter, wanting a kiss far more exhilarating than the innocent touch of lips that Thorin had provided him with. The king made a surprised rumble in his chest, one hand dropping to Bilbo’s hip as he was kissed breathless. Bilbo backed up against his door, using it for support as his knees started to go weak with overwhelming joy and desire intermingling together. 

Fingers twining around one of the many braids in Thorin’s hair, Bilbo nipped at Thorin’s upper lip, tugging it between his teeth in a gentle suck like he’d wanted to do so many times before. Thorin gasped into his mouth, kissing back with an increased passion that had them both rattling the door with how forcefully Thorin pushed their bodies together. The sound was enough to break them both from the dazed state of needy kisses they’d fallen into. Thorin pressed his face into the curve of Bilbo’s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the fur of his own coat.

“Just a single braid in your hair, and it was enough to give me all the courage in the world,” Thorin murmured, palm stroking up Bilbo’s side. 

Bilbo wrapped his arms tight around Thorin’s shoulders, “you should thank your sister,” he said softly, chest fit to burst with all the emotions filling him up. Thorin harrumphed, pulling away just enough so that he could stroke the back of his knuckles down Bilbo’s cheek.

“You say that now, but when she finds out you’ve accepted my dagger, she’ll have us chaperoned through the entire courting process.”

“Chaperoned?” Bilbo echoed dizzily, “…process?”

Thorin frowned, head tilting to the side, “do hobbits not court?”

“Well, yes,” Bilbo admitted, “but we don’t require chaperons--we’re adults, after all.”

A tiny, wistful smile came to Thorin’s lips, “if only that could be said for my people. It’s likely Dis will have a guard following us until the first month is over.”

“M-month?”

“It’s to make sure our affections go beyond the passion of lust,” Thorin explained, “though I know that isn’t true with you, as a king I need to uphold our traditions.”

Bilbo, feeling suddenly very frustrated to know of what they couldn't have, pulled his hands away and crossed his arms. “Are you to tell me I can’t even kiss you because of some tradition?”

Shaking his head, Thorin reached out to pinch Bilbo’s braid between his fingers, “we may kiss--but only under supervision and nothing like… what you just did.”

“What I just did was kiss you,” Bilbo pointed out, feeling a bit vindictive knowing he was going to be kept in the woes of sexual frustration for weeks on end. Thorin snorted, shaking his head and pinching Bilbo’s chin between his fingers.

“What you just did was tease me endlessly to know that I can’t have all of you just yet,” he rasped, ducking down to peck Bilbo softly on the mouth before pulling back entirely. “I still have things to attend to for the afternoon…but if you would like, I would very much enjoy it if you joined my family for dinner.”

Bilbo sighed, pressing back against the door and then remembering he was wearing Thorin’s coat. “I still need to thank Fili and Kili proper for saving me,” he reminisced, shrugging the coat off. Thorin brought a hand up, pushing it back into Bilbo’s arms and shaking his head.

“Keep it for now. I’ll have Bifur come fetch you for dinner and you can give it back to me then.”

Bilbo nodded, wanting more than anything to just toss the coat aside and pull Thorin into his bedchambers. He sighed, bidding Thorin farewell as the king gave him one last longing look before he made his way down the hall to finish his work for the day. 

It wasn’t until Thorin was completely out of sight that Bilbo slipped into his room. He set the coat down on the bed, standing there for a moment before a swell of giddiness overtook him. Bilbo couldn't help but bounce a little as he scurried into the second suite, laying against the lichen and moss surrounding his little pond and shoving his hand in the water to try and calm himself. He shut his eyes, letting his mind wander back to their kiss.

Perhaps being kidnapped by cutthroats hadn't been all that bad--not if it had brought him this happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr is thorinfuckinshield for those who are curious or would like to talk feels? :D


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